


Washing Away the Blood

by GinnyBadWolf



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Have Fun!, I hope you like it, Lots of Angst, Sadness, it might make you cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyBadWolf/pseuds/GinnyBadWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was so tired of keeping the things he felt guarded behind large barriers, of pretending that he was okay and awake and that he was perfectly sane. And maybe, just maybe, he had pretended long enough that he had fooled himself." A series of one-shots revolving around my perfect baby Washington. Much angst, so wow. Most scenes will take place in series 11-13, but I'll specify.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Privacy

Characters: Wash, Tucker, Caboose

Summary: Tucker and Caboose realize that they've never seen Wash without his helmet on. They try to fix that.

Setting: Season 11 at the Crash Site.

Disclaimer: I don't own RvB, but I do in my heart and imagination.

Wash sighed and put on his helmet. Another tedious day of training, cataloging, and attempting to whip his idiotic team into shape. He wasn't looking forward to it, but there wasn't much he could do about it, was there?

The helmet locked on with a hiss and a click, and he was ready to go and wake everyone else up. It was 6:54 in the morning, and Wash was super freaking tired, but now that he was living in close quarters with everyone else, he had to get up earlier so he could eat breakfast and get in early morning training. That meant waking up at 5:45 every day, and he never really slept well. He had considered eating breakfast and working out at the same time as the others so he could sleep later, but that meant not wearing his armor while around them and he'd rather not do that. None of the others had even seen him without a helmet before.

He was painfully aware of the fact that he looked exactly the same age as everyone else here, even though he was somewhat older. And that fact pissed him off, because if he wanted to maintain some level of order and respect around here, he had to appear to be older and more experienced. So he kept his armor on at all times, which was a super fucking pain. But it was worth the small shred of obedience he was given.

And so he walked into the room Tucker and Caboose shared, and started yelling. "Get up! We have training in 45 minutes! Get dressed and eat breakfast! Go!"

Tucker mumbled and rolled over in bed, saying something about 'oh baby, right there' that Wash shuddered at before disregarding. Caboose shot up in bed and started to ramble.

"Can we have waffles today, Washingtub? I like waffles. Especially with the chocolate that's on the ground. Ooh, Agent Washingtub, can we please have waffles with ground chocolate?" Wash blinked.

"Uh, I don't think we have any waffle mix... sorry, Caboose." Caboose pouted for a moment before rambling on about the next thing and walking into the kitchen in his kitten-covered pajamas. Wash waited for Tucker to get up for a second, and then ripped the sheets off of Tucker's bed. Tucker shot up.

"Damn, it's cold in here! I'm putting on a sweatshirt." He shot a dirty look at Wash and started sorting through his civilian clothes. Wash watched for a second as Tucker pulled out an aquamarine (or was it teal? turquoise?) hoodie and put it on. Then, the two walked out into the kitchen where Caboose had already set something on fire.

"Caboose!" Wash exclaimed exasperatedly as he put out the fire. "What did I tell you about fire?!" Caboose thought for a second, and then sighed.

"Don't play with it." Wash nodded, and sat on the couch and let out a breath. His armor was super heavy, and he sunk really far down into the couch with it on. It was kinda uncomfortable, but he didn't want to take off his armor. Tucker stared for a second, and then decided to comment.

"Bro, why don't you just wear civvies? You're sinking so far into that couch we're gonna need to winch you out." Wash sighed.

"I'd rather not take it off." Wash sighed. Tucker looked at him weirdly.

"Now that I think about it, I've never seen you with a helmet off. Dude, you've seen both of us without armor on like, a gazillion times. What's up with that?" Tucker implored. Wash felt they were straying into dangerous territory.

"Nothing, I just feel safer in my armor."

Tucker scoffed. "Please, dude. Who's gonna attack us now, the Reds? It's 7 o'clock in the fucking morning, nobody is organizing an attack. I really doubt there even is anyone out on this planet. You're perfectly freaking safe. Now take off your helmet."

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because."

"Dude, I bet it's 'cause you're ugly."

"I'm not ugly."

"Prove it!"

"No, you should take my word for it because I'm your leader. Now eat your breakfast and stop talking about this, and then we can get our training done faster." Tucker backed off at the little edge in Wash's voice, but he vowed to try again.

"One hundred pushups, now." Tucker groaned. This must have been punishment for earlier! He got down on his hands and feet, but was surprised when Wash joined him. Wash must have received the strange look when he said, "What? I'm trying to keep in shape, too." And so Tucker began the agonizing one hundred pushups, but was glad for the breeze. A violent change from when Tucker had woken up, it was sweltering now, and the small wind gave some relief. But as he looked over to Wash, it looked like Wash wasn't fairing as well as Tucker was.

His pushups were getting weaker by the minute, and his armor looked as if it was weighing him down. And since it was so hot out, Wash might have been baking in there. The AC in their armor had been malfunctioning lately, with the crash and all, and Wash had been ticked off about that for almost a week.

Around number 47, Wash gave out. Tucker stopped his pushups for a second. "Dude, take off your armor. You know the AC isn't working! It's probably an oven in there."

"No - I can do - this." Tucker frowned at Wash's labored breathing and quieter voice.

"Dude, no! We're barely halfway done yet and you look like you're fucking dying. Just take off your armor or stop doing the pushups." Wash stayed silent for a second, and then:

"Fine. You keep doing the pushups." Tucker cautiously began again as Wash shakily got to his feet and went to lean against a tree, holding a hand against his forehead. Tucker started speaking again as he continued doing pushups.

"Why don't you just take off your armor? Like, ever? I'm pretty sure that anybody else, like, even that lazy Grif guy on Red team would have just taken off their armor. Seriously, bro." Wash shook his head.

"Just - don't like - taking it off. Can we - stop talking - about this?" Tucker gave him a look. "Nevermind - I'm going - inside." And he stopped leaning on the tree and headed back to the base. As Tucker discreetly got to his feet despite not being done with his pushups, Wash turned back his head and said, "That's an extra - twenty pushups once you finish - with your hundred, soldier."

As soon as he got inside and had checked to make sure Caboose wasn't lurking about, he ripped off his helmet and breathed in the cool air. He sank back onto his place on the couch and wiped his sticky brow, relieved. Setting down his helmet next to his hip, he felt a sudden sense of foreboding. Would Tucker and Caboose try anything and barge in the base to try and catch him with his helmet off? Who knows what those idiots would do. With a small bitter frown, he stuck his helmet on in an agonizingly slow fashion and walked tiredly back to his room before peeling off all his armor pieces and collapsing on the bed.

He let out one big breath as he heard somebody give a loud shout of frustration. "Goddammit, he moved! Knew that cocksucker wouldn't take his helmet off in the living room..." Wash gave a small triumphant smile and reached up to lock his door. If Tucker wanted to play the game, then Wash was more than willing.

Wash had finally come out of his room and declared training to be over, although Tucker and Caboose had finished with their exercise long ago. And so, they all hit the showers.

Wash couldn't convince Caboose not to sing his sad songs about Church while taking his shower, so Wash and Tucker were yet again subjected to agonizing torture. But Tucker knew it would prove to be very useful.

He waited for Wash to give the all-clear (Nobody was allowed in the shower room while somebody was getting in one of the three showers - the standard issue towels did not seem to be at the crash site, so they had to get in one at a time to save their eyes) before going into the room. Pretending to be taking off his clothes to get in, he quietly tip-toed to Wash's shower (using Caboose's dreadful wails as a cover) before quickly grabbing the curtain by the halfway point (that way, he wouldn't open up the bottom half and could avoid some awkward conversation) and ripping open the top to reveal Wash's - helmet.

Wash turned to look at him and cocked his head. Tucker raised his eyebrows. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing in the shower with your helmet on?" Wash turned away from Tucker, obviously rolling his eyes even though he was wearing the helmet.

"Please, you really think I would let you catch me like that, Tucker? I'm smarter than you give me credit for. Now close the goddamn curtain." Tucker frowned and yanked the curtain back closed. How the hell did Wash know he was going to do that?

Wash called out after him. "Next time, don't let me know you're going to try and catch me without my helmet on!" He started making hand gestures. "In the living room?" At this, he began to imitate Tucker's voice, but at a whinier, screechier level. 'Goddammit, he moved!' You think the Freelancers didn't ever try and prank me..." Tucker grumbled and took off his clothes before getting in the shower and sulking, before getting an idea.

That night, he tip-toed over to Wash's room. He listened at the door to make sure there were no signs of movement or irregular breathing (of which there were none). It was the perfect plan! Tucker knew from experience that it was almost impossible to sleep with a helmet on, and that Wash wouldn't be able to stop him from seeing what he looked like before waking up.

He put his hand on the doorknob and quietly, smoothly cracked open the door so that it dared not make a single sound... and then launched it open and jumped through the doorway, yelling a triumphant "AH-HAH!" to... an empty bed.

He looked around Wash's room for a moment before approaching Wash's untouched bed. He found a note on top of the pillow on a piece of scrap paper. It read: "You really fucking think I'm that stupid? Once again, Freelancers." He sighed and made a bitter frown before tossing the note onto Wash's bed again and shutting the door, stomping back to his and Caboose's room where Caboose was already sound asleep.

Wash let out a sigh. He had heard Tucker walking over from their room, had quickly scribbled a note and tossed it on his pillow, and jumped in the space next to the door. Luckily, he hadn't gotten in bed yet, so it looked as if he had gone somewhere else for the night.

He was annoyed not to have fallen asleep beforehand - it was probably better that he got some sleep after this long day and have Tucker see what he looked like than stay up late to be super tired in the morning and be constantly annoyed by Tucker. But the stupid shitty paranoia and awareness that he had developed from his Freelancer days had acted up, and now he was ready to collapse where he stood. And so he sat on his bed, to keep himself from doing that very thing.

Stupid fucking nightmares, fucking up his already shitty fucking sleep schedule.

Nowadays he was always so tired, because he went to bed late and woke up early and his small time spent actually asleep was constantly plagued with painful reminders from his past that woke him up crying and shaking.

He was too tired for Tucker's shit.

He didn't like having all the attention on his face and what he looked like. It was a lot easier to keep his helmet on when nobody noticed that he never took it off.

He rubbed his face and sighed. It had actually been a while since he had looked himself in the mirror. A really long while. At Project Freelancer, he had his helmet on at almost all times for missions and training. When he was in jail, there were no mirrors. During Recovery, he had almost always been out in the field or in his cell, or some kind of shit. And lately, well... he guessed he was just used to keeping his helmet on and not paying attention to mirrors.

He got up. There was a mirror in every bedroom, by the door. How many times had he walked into Tucker and Caboose's room only to see Tucker checking himself out in the mirror? He slowly got to his feet and raised his eyes to his image.

He was shocked, and almost fell backwards for a moment. It really had been a long time since he had looked in a mirror - he hadn't seen himself in the reflection. For a wild moment, he thought he had seen York before he had discerned the obvious differences.

The coloring, the normal eye, the the slightly thinner face, bags under their eyes... Wash hadn't noticed that last part. He had bags under his eyes that were almost black, giving him the appearance of a raccoon. His eyes were a little red and veined, and looked cold and hard. But besides those, he had almost seen York in his own reflection. And then the memories came back.

How when he finally took off his helmet back on the Mother of Invention, everyone had said that he looked like York's younger brother, (except for the dyed hair) and how York had always called him little bro after that. How York would noogie him as North laughed and occasionally joined in. How North would lend him comic books. How the other Freelancers would look at the two almost-brothers and smile. How York was always, always there to rag on him and help him out of tough spots. One memory in particular stood out, though.

Wash sat on his bed, reading a comic North had given him. A small knock on his door brought his small time of relaxation to a halt, and he dropped the comic book to go open his door.

Carolina stood in front of him, helmet in her hand by her side. He gave her a small curious look before saying, "Am I missing a training session or something...?" Before she gave him a small, rare smile and shook her head.

"No. Could I come in?" Wash, surprised by how meek she was acting, stood aside. She walked in, looked around at the mess for a bit, and sat down in the chair by his desk. He watched before cautiously sitting back down on his bed, fixing her with a worried and confused gaze. She sighed before starting.

"Um, I wanted to come here because... okay, don't tell York about this, but I wanted to know if you were okay with me... uh, dating York." Wash blinked, shocked by that statement.

"Why would you ask me permission?" Carolina gave him a small dirty look before answering.

"Because, you're like his little brother. I'm almost sure you fooled the rest of the Freelancers who aren't on our team that you two are related by blood, and we didn't even say anything about you guys to them. They just... see it. York treats you like his brother, and you act like it. Besides, I wanted to know if you're okay with it. You're important to him, like you're real family. Everyone here is a family, you more than anyone." Wash blushed a little, and his gaze fell to his shoes.

"I don't know..." he paused before continuing. "Do the other Freelancers really think we're actually brothers?" He lifted his eyes up to give Carolina a sheepish stare. She nodded. He smiled before continuing. "Well, I think it's about damn time you two got together. Me and South have been waiting for ages." Carolina gave him another dirty look, but her smile gave away her true feeling.

She got up from her chair and walked over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Wash." And as she reached the doorway, he called out to her.

"Thanks for asking me... and thanks, for... letting me know I was family." And as she gave him yet another rare smile and shut the door, he couldn't contain the rising feeling that he finally belonged somewhere.

Wash snapped out of his reverie, eyes crinkling up and hands that had been up by the mirror, by his reflection fell to his sides. He gave a shaky breath out and his eyes fell to the ground as he attempted to regain his composure. Damn.

He and Carolina really were the only ones left.

Florida had been sent to protect the Alpha and had been killed.

Connie had figured out what Project Freelancer was and had gone behind their backs, falling in love with the Insurrectionist leader and eventually getting killed by Tex.

York had been helping Tex when he was shot by his former teammate and died.

North had been defending South when she betrayed him by running away and left him to the Meta, who killed him.

South took Delta and went rogue, but was then killed. He had killed her. Shot her in the head.

Maine had been thrown off of a cliff after betraying all of his friends and being taken over by Sigma. No, that had been the Meta. Maine had died once the AIs started to take control of him.

Wyoming had been killed by Tucker, but his last copy was killed by Tex.

And Carolina was out there, somewhere, having left without saying goodbye just like every other friend he had.

He reached up a raked a hand through his bleach-blonde hair. It had been light blonde, like York's, before Project Freelancer, but one day during Truth or Dare (they had been majorly drunk) he was dared to dye his hair bubblegum pink. And he freaking did it.

After the pink had finally faded, his hair was left bleached, and he had left it. At first, because it actually looked somewhat good (North said it went well with his eyes), but now he left it as a reminder of better days. A mark on him, physical along with the emotional. It felt right.

He breathed out again, a shuddering noise that failed to mask the tears that were going to come eventually. He was so tired of keeping the things he felt guarded behind large barriers, of pretending that he was okay and awake and that he was perfectly sane. And maybe, just maybe he had pretended long enough that he had fooled himself.

He had been pretending that he wasn't breaking inside, keeping his emotions so tightly guarded behind his walls that he hadn't even seen it when he was breaking, fracturing into thousands of tiny pieces, but he had. He turned to look at his helmet, which was now laying on top of his bed, and knocked it off and watched as it landed with a small clunk on the ground.

Hands shaking, he took off each piece of metal on his armor until he just had his under armour on and collapsed on the bed, tired and shaking with silent sobs and invisible tears. And that was the way he fell asleep.

Tucker rolled over in bed, annoyed and delirious. What the hell had woken him up at this time of night? Rubbing his bleary eyes, he sat up a little and listened. Caboose was still asleep, clutching some weird thing he had probably picked up off the ground somewhere, but at least he wasn't talking and interrupting.

He tiredly put his feet on the ground and stood up. Padding over to door, he pressed his ear to the wall to listen for noises. After a couple seconds, he heard what sounded like... loud, labored breathing? It was coming from Wash's room. He resisted the urge to sprint through the hallway and into Wash's room to see what was going on.

The breathing became louder and more panicked until it finally built up and came to the climax: A shrill scream.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Tucker jerked backwards instinctively, and Caboose lifted his head and mumbled something unintelligible. The breathing from Wash's room sounded more like sobs, now. "NORTH! SOUTH! YORK! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY... CONNIE!" His screams echoed around the base. "CONNIE, I'M SORRY... MAINE, MAINE, I'M SO SORRY... CAROLINA... YORK... I'M SORRY... SOUTH... I'M SORRY... CONNIE... YORK..." His screams faltered. By now, Caboose had cautiously come to his feet, but didn't say anything. Tucker was too shocked to move.

After a couple minutes, the sobs had waned and all was quiet. Tucker and Caboose didn't move. Tucker waited for another minute, and then he heard the quiet noise of a door unlocking and somebody running through the base. He gave Caboose a look before quickly unlocking the door and walking out.

Wash raked his hands through his hair, shaking and sobbing. All of his friends... those nightmares! Thanks to Epsilon, he could never do anything but remember in his dreams. His dreams were never anything new, or random, or strange like normal dreams. All he could do was relive his worst moments, and Wash had plenty of worst moments in his life. Sleep was a living hell.

Seeing York's dead body... watching as his relationship with Connie fell apart... witnessing the fall of the project... shooting South in the head... Epsilon... oh, god, Epsilon... being in jail... slowly watching as his family, his sanity, his life fell apart... that was what he saw again and again when he fell asleep.

And he couldn't take that anymore. He had to just let it all go.

He got up out of his bed and picked up his helmet, holding it by his side and not bothering to put it on. Then, he unlocked his door, sprinted through the base, and ran out into the night.

He sighed a little. It had been a long time since he had felt fresh air on his face.

Then, he kept running on until he found some distinct corner of the crash site, a place nobody could see him from their bases. A rock, surrounded by a couple of trees. And he sat down on the rock, dropped the helmet beside him, and began to cry, his hands in his hair.

Tucker walked through the crash site, looking around curiously. Why would Wash come to this obscure part of the canyon? He understood that Wash didn't want to be found, but this was a little excessive.

He looked around for a moment, looking at the landscape before something caught his eye. A blue and yellow helmet caught his eye, and he quietly trudged a bit around a tree to get a better view. What he saw surprised him.

He had expected Wash to be old, like that Sarge guy on the other team. Or that Wash was going to be ugly. He had at least thought that he was definitely more attractive than Wash. Boy, was he wrong.

There was no other way of saying it... Wash was hot.

He had bleach-blond hair that curled up in the front, sea green eyes that blended into a bluish-gray, a nice, kind of pale skin tone, and really sexy facial features.

What the fuck, Wash?

Then, he noticed how Wash was shaking and that he had one year trailing down his cheek, hands in his hair and dry sobs quietly echoing around the area.

Tucker realized that Wash couldn't see him, which was probably a good thing. Wash wouldn't want to be bothered about his Freelancer friends, or whatever dream he might have had.

Tucker's gaze roamed back up to Wash's eyes, which on second thought looked a little red. He looked closer, and saw the kind of sadness and misery that was most apparent at places like funerals. And that Wash's eyes were old looking - older than anyone who looked Wash's age. He looked tortured inside, as if he was ripping himself apart. And Tucker couldn't take it anymore, and he withdrew his former statement to leave Wash alone.

He came out from behind his tree and came to sit next to Wash on the rock. Wash looked up, surprised, and scrambled for his helmet, but Tucker looked at him and said seriously, "There's no need for that anymore, Wash." Wash sighed and looked down, his breathing ragged from the sobs. Tucker turned to look at him again. "Dude, if you need to talk..." Wash broke down, burying his face in his hands and sobbing.

"I - can't. All of m-my old f-friends are d-dead. York w-was like m-my older brother, a-and so was N-North. And - and Maine, who w-went crazy, S-South is dead because of m-me. And C-Connie... Maybe if-if I had told her how I f-felt earlier, s-she wouldn't have been CT and t-then been k-killed." Tucker moved back, confused about CT being a girl. And Wash's love interest? But he didn't speak, only rubbed Wash's back.

Wash looked confused as surprised about the contact, but soon leaned in to Tucker and hugged him, sobbing into his shoulder. "I didn't want to take off m-my helmet because you guys all expect m-me to be old, even though I'm barely older, and I d-didn't want to lose any r-respect. And I - look too much like Y-York. It hurts me, and now it-it'll hurt Carolina. So p-please stop annoying me." Tucker nodded.

"Of course, bro." And Wash waited a little while before speaking again.

"You know, you - were really fucking annoying about that. Screw you, Tucker."

Tucker smiled. "Screw you too, Wash." And they spent a while sitting there together, Wash hugging Tucker as he cried into the shoulder of part of his new family.


	2. Oreo

Characters: Wash and kitten

Summary: Kitten

Setting: Kitten (no, just kitten, [:D] sometime during Project Freelancer but before the events of Seasons 9 and 10.

Wash slowly forced his eyelids open, groaning and turning his head to the side. He didn't want to wake up...

He remembered being on a mission. He had been guarding Carolina and Maine's backs when somebody had snuck up behind him and... he think they bashed the back of his with a gun, he didn't remember. With a flash of panic, he sat up. Carolina and Maine, were they okay? Who knows what might have happened. He looked left and right (recognizing that he was in the medbay) and only laid back down when he was sure that nobody else was in the room with him.

His head hurt quite terribly from the sudden movement, but he tucked himself back under the blankets.

With a jolt, he realized that something was moving on top of his foot.

It was sitting by his feet, making painfully adorable noises and nuzzling its fuzzy face against his leg, lazily waving around its tail and occasionally licking his leg with its tiny tongue.

How the hell did they manage to sneak a kitten on board?

The animal in question popped up, realizing that the human it was currently sitting on was awake, and stood up and began the walk to his face.

He stared blankly, disbelieving as the kitten tripped over his knee and fell in the space between his knees. The cat climbed back up his leg, and finally reached his chest before sitting down and giving his nose a lick.

Wash blinked, and then reached up his hand to pet the kitten's head. His head gave a dull pound, but the purring sound the little black and white creature made was so cute he just could not resist. It closed its eyes and rested its head in his hand, before falling over, completely asleep. Must have been tuckered out from his long walk from his foot all the way up to his chest!

Wash resisted the urge to swoon as the kitten curled up into a tiny ball in his sleep. Slowly turning his head so that he didn't disturb it, he glanced over at the door, expecting somebody standing by the door, laughing at his disturbing cat lady-ness, but nobody was by the doorway. Instead, there was a note on the table beside him. He picked it up and read it, the shortest note he had seen in his life.

You're Welcome.

-The Freelancers

P.S. Name her Oreo.

Wash rolled his eyes, but decided that Oreo was befitting of a cat with black fur and white socks (Even one on the tip of her tail!). Oreo meowed a little in her sleep, and Wash resisted the overwhelming, almost unstoppable urge to cry from the cute.

Since his vision was getting a little fuzzy, and his headache had gotten a bit worse, he decided that was enough activity for now. He carefully scooped Oreo up in his hands, turned over, and deposited the kitten in his arms. Letting his eyelids fall closed, he smiled weakly as Oreo nuzzled herself into his arms and gave a quiet 'meow' of sleepy joy.


	3. It's Time to Say Goodbye

Characters: Wash, Freelancers, Carolina

Summary: Wash gets a chance to say goodbye.

Setting: Some time during Season 13, I think? Idk

Disclaimer: Yeah, no.

Wash tossed and turned in his sleep. York, Connie, North, South, Maine, Wyoming... the words echoed in his head on a reel, never ending. He could see the way the died in his head, their last breaths dedicated to telling him just how terrible he was. Each one died over and over, with him having no way to save them, telling him over and over how they hated him and that it was him that should be dead.

York was getting shot by Wyoming. Delta popped and and said to Wash, "You have failed to save Agent New York. There was a 75% chance of you being able to save him." York's voice came over the radio, spiteful and bitter.

"You really are the worst fighter on the team. It's your fault that I'm going to die. I hate you, Wash." Wash cried out, trying to convince York that he tried to save him and not to go, but York died with his statement still standing.

North always looked more disappointed than anything. "You didn't stop the Meta. You teamed up with the thing that killed me. You killed my sister. You failed. I'll never forgive you." And he shook his head before the Meta snuck up behind him and stabbed him. Wash screamed.

South had her eyes narrowed and was laughing, her helmet off. "You're too weak. Anybody else would be strong enough to save us, strong enough to forgive me, but you shot me. You're too weak." She spat, her voice like venom. A small drip of blood snuck down her face from her hairline, and she slipped to the ground with a laugh dying on her lips.

Maine would always growl, his words saying things like, "You failed." Wash could hardly stand these. In the end, Maine would turn into Sigma and disappear like an A.I.

Wyoming would just laugh at him and leave.

CT's was the worst. She looked him dead in the eyes every time. "You didn't join me against the Director. You had Epsilon implanted in your brain, and you weren't brave enough to do anything like I did. It's your fault that I'm dead and everyone else will be." Wash cried out, reaching out for her hand, but she always slipped away and left him, sneering. "You could never be good enough to be with me." She always fell to the ground as she walked away, and when Wash always ran to see if she was okay, she was dead with a grim smile on her face.

It replayed, over and over and over and over again, the most painful thing he had ever endured. He fell to his knees, hands clutching his head as he struggled to stop his mind from doing this to him. His hands and his breathing shook in the dream, grappling against dream and reality and bringing him to a scream.

The last thing he saw in the dream was CT's faint smirk.

He shot up in bed, hands shaking and gripping the sides of his head. He couldn't stop shaking, and he bit his lip and let out a small sob. They were dead because of him. He would never, ever see his friends again.

His fault.

The space around his eyes got fuzzy, as if it were being invaded by tiny black spots, and his tunneled vision became grey. He put his hand on the wall for support, still shaking. The moonlight streaming in from the window faded in and out, in and out of focus. He wanted to worry, but he couldn't bring himself to. After a few seconds, his breath faded from him and he slowly swayed and fell back down to his bed, asleep though unwilling.

Everything around him was coated with a white mist, and in the middle was a bright light. He squinted for a moment at the light, before six silhouettes blocked out the light slightly. They got closer and closer until Wash realized who they were.

His friends. His dead Freelancer friends.

They got closer until Wash could see each of them clearly, all of them giving him curious gazes (what he could assume were, at least) through their helmets.

Wash trembled for a moment before breathing, "Guys?"

York's voice, which Wash hadn't heard in so long, replied. "We're here, Wash." Wash bit his lip again.

"You're - you're really here?" Connie nodded. He noticed that she was the only one without a helmet. "This isn't fake?" She gave a soft smile, not at all like the one in his nightmare.

Wash looked around, trying to keep himself from breaking down. "Why am I here?"

North answered this time. "We wanted to say goodbye, bud. And we needed to let you know that everything that has happened to us isn't your fault. And that we don't hate you." Wash let out one bated breath, trembling more. North began again."Keep on going, brother. You can do it." He gave a weak smile

South looked to either side of her, seeing who wanted to step out next, and when everyone moved their heads as if to say, 'Go on,' she stepped forward. She sighed. "Wash. I'm so sorry, for - for shooting you in the back, and being such a bitch, and everything that I've done to you. I realize now. And I forgive you for killing me - I really do, Wash." Wash looked down, trying to keep the tears from flowing. His clenched hands relaxed a bit.

As South came back into the line, Wyoming stepped forward. "I'm sorry, mate. I'm terribly sorry for how everything played out. Good luck." Wash nodded a little, trying to get a hold of himself.

Maine was next. Wash braced himself for the words of his former best friend. Maine, his voice finally back in death, spoke with real words instead of like the growls in Wash's nightmare. "Look, I'm sorry for how Sigma took over me and destroyed everything. I'm sorry for what I've done to you. And you're doing really well, Wash. Keep going." Wash vaguely wondered why everyone else was apologizing to him, when he was the one who should be sorry, but he drank in the last words of his best friends.

This time, York moved forward. Wash took in a deep breath as York spoke. "Keep fighting, little bro. You can do this." Wash nodded. "I wish I could be down there fighting with you, but... I can't, so just stay strong for the both of us. For the two of you. And... tell Carolina that I ... I love her, and goodbye." Wash gave a sad smile for his two friends, lovers estranged in death.

Last was the one he was both dreading and waiting for. Connie. She stepped forward, her helmet in her hand by her side. "Wash." She spoke softly and sweetly, and Wash exhaled softly. "I'm so sorry for how everything ended up. I wish... I wish I could have figured out some way, any way to do it differently." She brought her gaze up to his eyes. "I miss you, Wash."

Wash lost his composure, and ran forward, encasing her in his arms. She sighed quietly, and put her head on his shoulder as he pressed her close to her, taking in her every detail and the feeling of being able to hold her just one more time. He put his head down on hers and they rocked back and forth a little, eyes closed but tears forming.

She pulled away and joined back in the line of his friends, even though he didn't want her to leave. His voice broke a little as he pleaded. "Please don't go." They all fixed him with small, sad gazes and shook their heads slightly - sorry, but no. "But - but what am I supposed to do without you?" They all looked at him kindly.

"We're always with you, David. We're always here." Wash wasn't exactly sure who said it, and why they addressed him with his real name, but he took in another breath before asking the question that was on his mind.

"How do I know that this was real? Is this fake, and was my nightmare real?" Connie looked at the others for a moment before stepping forward.

"Because of this." And she softly pressed her lips to his before the world went black.

Wash woke up abruptly for the second time that night, and drew out a shuddering breath before putting a hand to his lips and slowly sitting up.

His lips were still tingling from her kiss.

He looked around for one second before he saw something (well, things) out of the ordinary.

Every one of his new friends were sitting in his room, in a chair or on the floor or by his bed crying. He looked confused for one second before Carolina, her head rising up with obvious tear tracks on her face and lips trembling, tentatively asked, "Wash?"

The Reds and Blues that were in the room all turned to look at him, the tear tracks on their faces evident as well. Tucker waited a half a second before launching himself onto Wash's neck and screaming, "Wash!" Wash almost collapsed back onto the bed. He did that when Caboose jumped on top of the two and started yelling about something.

Wash moved back for a second and was able to wheeze out a, "What happened?"

Simmons, who had been sitting with his head in his hands answered. "We heard you, uh, screaming, so Carolina came into your room and found you, uh... dead."

Wash, fingers back on his lips, blinked before looking at Carolina and saying slowly, "I saw them." Carolina, and everyone else for that matter, looked at him strangely.

"What?"

He repeated his statement. "I saw them. The Freelancers." A small smile grew on his features before he let out a giddy cry and sat all the way up, Tucker and Caboose tumbling off of him. "I got to talk to them - to say goodbye! North, South, Wyoming, Maine, Connie, York - all of them!" Carolina blinked when he said York, but he bounded out of bed and hugged her, picking her up out of her chair and spinning her around. "I got to see them again!"

She was surprised at Wash but gave out a laugh before instantly imploring, "What did they say?" Ignoring the confused look on the Reds and Blues faces, he instantly launched into his story and told her what each of their friends said, word for word.

He hesitated when he got to York, but a quick look in Carolina's eyes and he continued. "York said to keep fighting, and that he wished that he could be here with us. And he..." he drew in a breath. "He said that he - he loves you, and goodbye." Carolina froze and closed her eyes, taking in a shaking breath. A small tear dripped out of the corner of her eye but she smiled a little.

She looked up at him shyly. "If - If somehow, you ever get to see them again like this - tell him that I love him too." The Reds and Blues all drew back at this statement, confused and absolutely shocked that the mean lady could possibly love somebody, but the two ignored them as Wash continued with what Connie said.

Carolina looked at him skeptically as he finished, and then carefully said, "Not that I don't believe you, but - how do you know it was real?" Wash smiled and whispered the answer in her ear, his lips still tingling from her final goodbye.


	4. It's Time to Say Goodbye - Part 2

Carolina didn't get enough sleep.

She just didn't. It wasn't the way she worked.

Every night, she would lay in her bed and wish that she was asleep. But what thoughts plagued her when she tried, or what visions plagued her when she did, were always enough to keep her awake for nights on end.

So naturally she was awake on the night that it happened.

She heard his screams, his panicked breathing, and how he cried and sighed and then fell silent. She heard how he pleaded with an invisible person, "No, please, don't leave me, don't die, don't hate me, I love you..." And she had a feeling she knew who it was he was pleading to. Her, them.

All of them.

It took a second to take in the fact that she should go help him, maybe go talk to him - after all, they were like siblings to each other. She understood him better than anyone.

A knock on her door fully alerted her, and she realized that maybe if she wanted to go help Wash, she should get up. She sat up and slowly went to the door, opening it to see an exhausted Tucker, yawning and rubbing his eyes. She could see, though, beneath the sleepiness, was a worry that she didn't see often on Tucker's face.

Upon seeing her at the door, he gave her a sad smile and said, "The other guys, we uh... heard him screaming. They sent me to go... Should I go talk to him, or..." She knew it was an invitation to go check on him herself. Tucker wasn't being selfish - he just knew he wasn't always the best person for the job. Taking a breath, she slowly answered him.

"I was just about to go check on him myself. You can go back to sleep if you want."

His worry flashed in his eyes as he quickly responded. "I think I might just - stay up a little longer, you know?" He wanted to know how Wash was doing after. Carolina nodded, and then slid past him and padded through the halls until she came to Wash's door.

She knocked softly. He didn't respond.

She knocked again. When there was no noise, she sighed softly. "Come on, Wash. I want to talk to you."

There was no response, again.

"I'm coming in." There wasn't a sound. With a frown, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Wash's room was mostly dark - there was a sliver of light that had snaked into his room from the moon that they had here on Chorus. It fell across his neck, lighting up his pale skin.

Carolina frowned. Wash had never been that pale...

She didn't like the way he was lying down, either. He was very, very still - and he looked limp, as well. He seemed to have fallen down, maybe from a standing or sitting position - and as Carolina looked at his still body, she realized.

Oh, god.

He wasn't breathing.

Instantly, she rushed to his side and put a hand over his heart, trying to feel for the slight rise and fall of his chest or for a faint heartbeat, anything.

He was dead.

With a heaviness rising up inside of her, she collapsed to the side of his bed. "TUCKER!" She screamed, the noise ripping at her throat.

Within seconds, Tucker was in the room and standing next to her, worried. "What's wrong?"

Tears pricked at her eyes, and one fell. "Look at him." Her voice was shaky. "Wash is - he's dead."

Tucker paled, dropping to his knees and putting a finger on Wash's cold, limp wrist. After a moment, he dropped his head and started to sob. Carolina's lip shook, and then she broke out into tears, crawling onto the bed and sobbing onto Wash's cold chest.

How could he leave her?

He was all she had left.

How would she survive without her 'little brother'?

God, how could he leave her?

Now, she was left behind. He had gone on with Connie, and North, South, Maine, Wyoming, York...

Why?

She fisted up Wash's shirt in her hand, crying into his chest. He was the last of her family, the people she had loved most in the world. But he had left her.

Why?

The door burst open, to reveal Caboose, Grif, Simmons, Sarge, and Donut. They took a look at Carolina, crying and curled up with Wash, and Tucker, holding Wash's pale wrist as he shook with silent sobs, and there was a small moment of quiet before a small, childish voice spoke up.

"Agent Washingtub?" Caboose's voice was tinged with sadness and curiosity. Grif and Sarge lowered their heads in respect. Simmons quietly approached Wash's side, shoulders tense. And Caboose did too, before sitting next to Tucker and curling up into a tiny ball, his baby blue eyes watering.

Church popped up by the door. "Hey guys, I was just checking out the computers and I saw all of you were awake, what's going o-" He froze, seeing the bunch sitting around Wash's room, and Wash's dead body. "No," His voice was denying. "Wash? Washington? No, please..." He dropped to his knees in the air. "No." His voice sounded more ragged than anything now.

Grif came over to Carolina. She noticed that he had a few tears trailing down his cheeks (a surprise - they hadn't seemed that close, but then again, she didn't know). "Look." He said. "You should sit down."

She looked at him, surprised. Why was he coming to her right now? Why would he ask her something like this? Blinking confusedly, she did not respond.

Grif sighed, and continued. "I think that - well, it's kinda morbid to be clutching Wash's dead body. I know you might miss him, but if Wash were here right now, he would be kinda freaked out." He looked uncomfortable, to say the least, but she sat up and slowly got away from Wash's body, breaking into tears again as she sat down in a chair next to him.

She couldn't believe he was gone.

Her only family.

He was gone.

Her little brother.

Her heart felt heavy, and a dreadful, terrible feeling had settled in her stomach. God, she would miss him. Miss the lovable goof, the hardened soldier, the perfect mix of the two.

His life meant so much to her. His life was Project Freelancer to her - the rough edges and the family ties, the goofing off and the intense fighting. Wash was all that was left of it, but then again, Wash was now. Not is.

Watching him from her place on the chair, the unimaginable sense of loss of the last piece of her past, and her 'little brother' weighed on her heavily. Like most everyone else in the room, she placed her head in her hands and sighed, the tears running down her face.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard a small rustle. Everyone in the room had refrained from making any sound - it was silent, except for the occasional sniffle. Letting her feelings get the best of her, she looked up, hoping for an impossible thing.

"Wash?" She croaked.

An impossible thing happened.

Wash was sitting up, his fingers touching his lips and a look of complete wonder settling on his features.

All of the Reds and Blues turned their heads to look on in amazement and joy as the person they had been mourning for the past few hours sat up, alive. Tucker and Caboose gave a shout of joy, and launched themselves onto Wash's neck. Wash still looked dazed. "Wash!" They screamed joyfully.

Wash, fingers still on his lips, shifted backwards so he could talk.

God, he was still alive.

Her 'little brother' was still alive.

He wheezed out a, "What happened?"

Simmons had been the corner of the room with his head in his hands. He had lifted his head up, and now he looked around at the others for a moment before answering a little nervously. "We heard you, uh, screaming, so Carolina came into your room and found you, uh, dead." The word hung ominously in the air, but it didn't matter any more.

Wash blinked, and then turned to Carolina. He looked disbelieving, and on the verge of getting... excited?

"I saw them." His words were marveling and dazed, as if he was in another world. She fixed him with a skeptical stare.

"What?"

He repeated his statement, the beginnings of a smile working its way onto his face. "I saw them. The Freelancers." It grew on his features as he gave out a giddy laugh and moved forwards, Tucker and Caboose tumbling off of him. "I got to talk to them - to say goodbye! North, South, Wyoming, Maine, Connie, York - all of them!" He bounded out of bed and picked her up out of the chair, spinning her around in a circle in the air before setting her down.

Shocked wasn't even the beginning of what she felt at that moment.

And she laughed, and then instantly came forward, her voice imploring and hungry. "What did they say?" The looks on the faces of the Reds and Blues were skeptical and completely lost, but she ignored them as Wash filled her in with the final goodbyes of her family.

North said to keep going, and that they could do it.

South said that she was sorry for shooting Wash, and that she was sorry for being such a bitch, and she was sorry for everything she had done to them. Wash glowed with relief and happiness as he said that South had forgiven him for killing her.

Wyoming had said that he was terribly sorry for how everything played out.

Maine had apologized for what Sigma had done, and how he had turned into Meta and destroyed everything, and that he was sorry for what he had done.

At that point Wash paused. She knew what was coming next, whose goodbye would be said next.

York's.

She would finally say goodbye to him. Or, at least him to her. And when Wash didn't continue speaking, she glared at him and he quickly continued. "York said to keep fighting, and that he wished that he could be here with us. And he..." he drew in a breath. "He said that he - he loves you, and goodbye."

She closed her eyes.

York loved her.

They had never gotten the chance to say it.

She had never gotten the chance to say it.

Taking in a shaking breath, she knew she should say it. As a small tear trickled out of the corner of her eye, she asked Wash what she knew was necessary. "If - If somehow, you ever get to see them again like this - tell him that I love him too." The Reds and Blues recoiled in shock, but she didn't give a shit.

She loved him.

Carolina loved York.

She did.

And Wash told her about Connie's goodbye. After he finished, she looked at him skeptically, hoping for the answer she wanted. She wanted it so badly. "Not that I don't believe you, but - how do you know it was real?"

And then he whispered the right answer in her ear.


	5. The Calm Before the Storm

Characters: Wash, Tex, York, Carolina, North, South

Summary: How Wash deals with Epsilon before it's taken out - a memory that slips his mind for once.

Setting: In Season 10, after Wash's implantation but before the withdrawal.

The world around him blurred and waved, refusing to come into focus. And just like that, a flash of a memory of the blonde-haired girl hit him, and then it was gone. He spent a couple seconds like that before his vision finally sharpened.

He pushed away at Epsilon's attempts to talk to him before gently turning his head to face the space around him.

He was in the medbay, laying down in bed. Beside him lay his friends. York was sitting in a chair, head in hands and a pained expression on his face. Carolina was standing beside him, shoulders straight and head high but an uncertain expression in her eyes. On his other side, South was hunched over. She had finally dropped the bitch face. North had a hand on her chair and had assumed the expression of a concerned older brother as he looked at Wash.

Wash gave a small grunt, and everyone looked at him before kneeling beside him. "Wash, you're awake! We didn't think you would come to for another couple days..." Their voices mixed together as Epsilon reached out and brought him back into a memory.

It was something from when he was a teenager (whether it was himself or Epsilon, he wasn't sure), and he was sitting on the couch with his arm around the blonde-haired girl. She was smiling, but her eyes were on the television screen as they watched the newest movie about an army mission. He couldn't care less about the movie - his eyes were on her. As he leaned in to kiss her, the memory was blurred over.

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Wash was brought back to the present with a lurch. His breaths got a little sharper as somebody's voice (North's? York's?) started droning on about what Wash had missed. His hands started trembling in the smallest way as he was dragged back under.

He was running with a girl with light brown hair, laughing as she hit him and screeched, "Tag!" before running off. He looked around for somebody close to him, settling on a boy with black hair who was close enough to tag. As he finally reached the boy and tagged him, a girl with blonde hair who was familiar looking but didn't fit in this memory graced the edge of his vision. He frowned before the world was glossed over.

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He blinked rapidly. Carolina was kneeling next to him, squinting and frowning. "Wash?" She asked cautiously. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?" His breathing got faster. She placed her armored hand on top of his. "Wash...?" A pause. "David?" He blinked. His lips trembled.

Epsilon started to talk to him. "Agent Washington! Agent Washington!" Wash tried to push him away, but Epsilon caught his hand mid-motion and pulled, bringing Wash close to the cobalt-clad soldier. "Help me. Get Allison." Wash shook his head.

"I can't - leave me alone! Ple-" But a memory washed over him and kept him under.

The blond-haired girl was softly kissing him, her arms wrapped around his neck. He closed his eyes gently and put his hand on the back of her head.

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He tried to reach out for her desperately, watching her slide away, trying to grasp her hand but watching as she fell out of his grasp. She fell into oblivion, her hand still reaching up for him and blonde hair billowing outward. He dropped to his knees, trying to catch her but watching as he failed.

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He fell back to the present, York by his side and locking eyes with him. "Wash, talk to me. Wash." Wash gazed back at him fearfully. Epsilon made panicked grabs at him, and every spot he touched left an aching, burning feeling behind. He hated it, but he couldn't do anything except tell York.

He spoke. "Why does it hurt?"

York drew back. "What?"

"You said it would just be headaches. So why does it hurt so much?" York gave him a sad look.

"You're a special case, bud."

Wash sighed and let his head fall back on the pillow. "Special case..." He didn't like being special. It was dark and scary and confusing.

Epsilon took advantage of his momentary vulnerability and lunged at him, tackling him and bombarding him with another memory.

His mother was sending him off to school on his first day, patting him on the head and putting his lunch (brown paper bag, of course) in his hands before walking him out to the driveway where he anxiously anticipated the yellow school bus. It pulled up, and he got on after waving goodbye to his mother. He sat down in the fifth row, next to a boy with black hair. "Hi, I'm..." he said to the boy, but a large bump blotted out his name. The boy shook his hand and gave him his name as well, and they started to talk. Out of the corner of his eye, a blonde girl much older than everyone else on the bus sat in front.

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He could hear the words the armor-clad soldiers are saying around him, but he couldn't; he's falling through a world where he could only hear and see her, where she was the center of attention or a detail out of place in the picture.

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He wanted to catch her every time, to be his anchor or to be the one in need of an anchor, but she slipped away after the smallest moment every time.

He couldn't be sure if any of the things he was seeing were his, or Epsilon's, or even real, or just changed, warped so that she was there, but it was scary. He really didn't like it, but he couldn't stop.

He started to breath faster and look around wildly, searching for the real world. He could hear the endless chatter of the soldiers by his bedside, but he couldn't see them or make out what they talked about. Their chatter slowed and stopped as he started to breath in raggedly, sharply. Allison.

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The world finally came back as Epsilon started to whimper, and suddenly a horrible pain struck in his mind. His hands flew up to his forehead and a bright light pierced his vision as she walked in. The light faded. Tex had come.

Her slight Texan accent cut through the fog like nobody else's had. "How's he doin'?" He heard a multitude of incomprehensible answers. "That bad, huh?" A couple more sentences. Some raising voices. He started to fade out, and even Tex couldn't be heard completely. He heard a lot of things that sounded like yelling, and then: "I just wanted to see how he's doing, Carolina! Why's that so hard to believe?! God, it's like that stick up your ass will just never come out."

He heard a couple of chuckles as Carolina sat down (since when had she been standing up?). He resisted Epsilon's attempts to reach out again, even though the background music of whimpers and moans had become almost unbearably loud.

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He watched as she turned to leave. "Well, I guess I'll go now."

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"ALLISON!" His voice ached, and he could hear the undertone of Epsilon's voice under it.

Her hand just on the door, about to leave, she turned her head. "What did you just say?"

He whimpered. "Allison... Allison..."

She turned around completely, walking back to him. She stayed silent before approaching him and standing formidably in front of his bed. Everyone else stayed back.

It was building up in his head, the pressure. Epsilon's moans became louder and louder.

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"I'M SORRY I FAILED YOU! ALLISON, TEX, I'M SORRY! I FAILED YOU AND NOW YOU'RE GONE, YOU'RE DEAD! TEX!" He wailed, his screams echoing off the walls. She walked closer to his bed, coming slowly until she kneeled down and her helmet just above his body.

"No, Wash, it's okay, I'm here. I'm right here, still alive -" But she was stopped.

Wash punched her in the face, his fist cracking her visor slightly as she wobbled and fell back from her knees and onto the ground. "NO! YOU'RE NOT REAL, YOU'RE DEAD!" He cried. Epsilon's voice was loud and strong, and in Wash's head the moans had become piercing screams.

Instead of punching him back and leaving, like every single person in the room expected her to, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

He looked down and sobbed, his cries broken and aching. Epsilon's screams could be heard quietly behind Wash's crying, wailing and despairing. Wash distantly heard the others come closer again and gently rub his arm, or break into a quiet chatter, but Tex didn't move an inch.

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Wash head felt as if it were about to explode with pain, and his cries redoubled.

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He wanted to pound his fists against a wall until it fell to the ground or his hands broke.

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Epsilon screamed, piercing his head in agony as the sounds increased in volume.

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No, Allison! He had failed her! Allison, Allison, Tex!

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Her arms around him never moved or wavered. She held him.

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The pain was building in his head, Epsilon's cries building, the pressure building, everything coming up in a gigantic mountain of agony that would only get higher and higher.

And Epsilon's cries stopped.

The sudden absence of sound in his head startled Wash, grounding him. He saw the world in perfect clarity as he pulled back from Tex's embrace, surprised. Everyone looked at him curiously, especially Tex.

Everything in his head was perfectly clear, perfectly silent, perfectly calm. He drew in one shuddering breath. Epsilon was nowhere to be found. This... this couldn't be good.

"Epsilon?" He murmured. "What are you doing?"

I'm sorry, Wash. Epsilon's voice echoed in his head. The AI, for the first time, appeared beside his head. There was a moment of total silence as everyone stared at the AI, completely confused and dreading what might happen. Wash closed his eyes. Allison?

The pain of a thousand suns filled his head, absolute agony that would not go away. Epsilon exploded beside him, destroying itself as he was ripped to pieces. His vision was only white, and a loud, piercing sound buzzed as he screamed, his voice dying in his throat as he clawed at himself, his mind, the mind that was destroying itself inside him.

Nothing could be worse than this. Wave after wave of agony and misery slammed into him, shattering everything he had and was as he clung to an arm that was holding him back. He felt as if he was exploding inside, but that he just wouldn't die and that he was condemned to hurt for as long as he lived, condemned to live in agony as his AI was dead, giving him this fate.

His voice was hoarse as he screamed more, but after what felt like an eternity of pain and unendurable agony, the noise began to decline and the white began to fade. He soon felt five pairs of arms wrapped around him, holding him as he fell through the terrible pain.


	6. Reminiscence

Characters: Wash, Epsilon/Church, Tucker, Carolina

Summary: An argument between Wash and Tucker leads Wash to relive some of his worst moments, literally.

Setting: A slight AU after the episode The Thin Fed Line (Season 13), where Carolina is on a mission and has left Church behind to recover for a little while. Chaos ensues, and not the fun kind.

Church really didn't like being in Tucker's head. With a shudder, he remembered some of the perverted things that Tucker had accidentally sent his way. God, the things that Tucker said out loud were tame and mature compared to that.

But he didn't really have much of a choice on whose head he could be in right now. He would much rather be in Carolina's head - that was fine. She treated him like a partner, and actually knew how to use and talk to him normally. With everyone else, it took ages to do anything, or they just ended up sending their absolutely disgusting pervy thoughts over and scarred him for life. But right now Carolina was on a mission, and had left him behind to 'recover' (he really was fine now, seriously). So he weighed his options with everybody else.

Tucker, no. He had already experienced that, and he just did not like it. Caboose - god, no. He would not undergo that insanity again. He didn't really know the reds well enough, and would be uncomfortable being in their heads. The same went for almost everyone else.

Wash? Instantly, he tried to rid himself of those memories. God, when he had been rampant...

He frowned. He... he had just failed Carolina. What he had said to her - about running all of the equipment at the same time, and how he just couldn't do that - totally true. But what if this was the beginning again? What if he was going rampant, and what happened to Wash would happen to Carolina or Tucker?

And even disregarding others, what would he do to himself? He really liked his life, computer program as he was, and didn't want to kill himself again. And the Blood Gulchers, what would they do? They had never seen stuff like that, had no idea of what things had happened to him. How would they react if out of the blue, Church committed suicide? He couldn't let himself go rampant, for himself and everyone else.

But he didn't know much about rampancy (he had never been in the classes about them) and as the one who might be rampant, he probably wasn't the best person to judge. Who did?

His go-to answer was Carolina, but as the person who was in her head a majority of the time and the one who had just assured her that he was totally fine, he felt that he should not be asking her specifically. Besides, she wasn't even here right now.

Wash? He was aware that Wash might be uncomfortable about talking about AIs, but he was just asking. Besides, Wash was the only one besides Carolina who actually knew something about AIs. Consulting one of the Blood Gulchers was an almost laughable idea. Yeah, he would ask Wash.

"Tucker?" He said. Tucker snapped out of his reverie (Church got a blast of what he was daydreaming about and almost threw up, if computer program could do that) and replied.

"Yeah bro?"

Church sighed. "Can you take me to Wash? I have something I wanna ask him."

Wash reloaded his gun, making sure he had the right amount of rounds before putting them in and starting to polish the gun. He was getting bored of the routine, though: there wasn't that much to do in between missions, training sessions, and battles. Being a soldier sounded like hard work, but that was only half the time. The other half could be mind-numbingly boring.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. There stood Tucker, with Church standing by his shoulder. He cocked his head before asking. "So what brings you to my little corner of hell?" He voiced dryly, putting down his gun and standing up.

Church sighed. "I was wondering what you knew about, uh, AI rampancy." Both Tucker and Wash started at this.

Wash frowned. "I thought you said... it was just because you can't run all the enhancements at once."

Tucker added to the conversation. "Yeah, dude. I don't want you going bat-shit crazy while you're still in my head!" Church dropped his hands and assumed an indignant stance.

"Look, I'm not going 'bat shit crazy'," He exclaimed, using air quotes, "I just wanted to make sure that nothing... uh, bad is happening. And even now that I remember everything about Project Freelancer, I never attended any of the classes before, uh..." Church trailed off and rubbed his neck as Wash looked away. Church started again, shaking off the sudden aura of discomfort that had taken over the room. "Well, I was just wondering if you remembered anything from the classes. Like, the first couple of stages of rampancy..."

Wash sighed and tried to look as if he wasn't just reminded of one of the worst times of his life. "Um, I don't remember much... I don't know how much I really payed attention in those classes, because I didn't have an AI at the time, and it was so long ago, and... it didn't really seem that important." Wash didn't mention the fact that he had tried to banish all memories of rampancy ever since... the rampant AI that would not be named had gotten in his head. Really, he didn't ever think he would have an AI ever again, so...

Church visibly sagged. "Uh, okay... just, try and remember... if you get anything, just uh... let me know." He looked to Tucker. "Let's go." Was turned to sit down and begin polishing his gun, but Tucker didn't leave.

"Wait, you're Epsilon, right?" Church rolled his eyes, something that was almost visible through his helmet.

"No..." He drawled sarcastically.

Tucker scoffed. "Epsilon is the AI for memory, right? So you can just go in Wash's head and unlock some stuff, just look around and get the info. No big deal."

Complete silence.

It stayed like that for a moment before Church spoke up. "Uh, no, that's not really a, uh, good, um, idea, I don't think we should..." But once again he trailed off. Wash was completely frozen in place, not moving an inch. The aura of discomfort once again settled over the room.

Tucker seemed confused, and a little annoyed. "Why not?"

Everything was silent again before Church answered. "It's - it's just better left unsaid."

Tucker withdrew a little, a bit more annoyed. "What aren't you telling me?"

Wash finally unfroze. "Like Church said, it's just better - better left unsaid. So, I'll see what I can remember on my own, okay?" The small bite to Wash's words instantly ignited Tucker.

"Seriously, tell me. Why won't you let your friend into your head for some information that could really help him out? It's just a little digging around!" Wash grit his teeth at 'digging' and turned back to him, pissed.

"Because, I really don't want to! Epsilon understands that, right?!" Church started at the sudden change in name, but nodded.

"Yeah, it's okay. No big thing." He agreed. But Tucker disregarded his words.

"Just tell me why the fuck you can't do this one small thing? Why can't you just trust me with this?!" Wash took one menacing step forward at Tucker's words.

"Because, this is something that does not concern you in any way! Just accept that and move on!"

"No, just give me one fucking simple answer. Why won't you let Church into your head?!"

Wash flung his hands up in the air. "Epsilon and I are probably in a mutual agreement that this is a bad idea. Right, Epsilon?!" Church frowned, annoyed about being addressed as Epsilon now and being used just to back up Wash, but he nodded again.

"Yeah, Tucker... just stay out of this. It's... it's a bad idea, to say the least." Tucker frowned bitterly.

"WHY?! It's a perfectly good idea! It's just that you -" he jabbed his finger in Wash's chest - "Are too proud to use it! Any idea that comes from a stupid simulation trooper isn't good enough for Mr. High and Mighty Freelancer!" Wash balled his fists.

"NO! You don't understand! This is something that doesn't concern you! You aren't any part of this! Now just back off!" Tucker stared at him before stepping back, truly angry now.

"Oh, I see. Instead of just telling me the truth, that you don't want to use any idea that comes from me, you're just going to reject it for no reason! You must be weak to not even be able to say it to my face. Weak and arrogant." Church breathed in, trying to calm himself.

"Tucker, back off. This is bigger than you. It really isn't that - this is something that just can't be talked about. It's not because you're a simulation trooper or anything -" But Wash cut him off.

"WEAK, huh?! Arrogant? Oh, you know what, Epsilon? Tucker just won't take my word for it, won't just let us live in peace! No, I'll do what Tucker asks now. Get in my head, Epsilon!" His fists were clenched so hard he thought his armor might break.

Church stopped. "Wash, no! You know what happened!" Wash's voice was full of bitterness as he spoke again.

"JUST DO IT!" Church blinked.

"Okay. Just let me work, alright? Don't - don't go digging around in my mind." Wash shook his head slightly.

"Just go." Church took in a deep breath, and let it out.

"Alright." And he dove into Wash's mind.

Everything was just fine for a second, as Wash sat and let Church do his work. He could feel the AI just sort of looking around in his brain, sorting through memories and information like he was looking for a book in a library. Wash closed his eyes and breathed out, totally relaxed. Just let Church do his work, he repeated in his mind. Just let Church do his work.

He sighed, and ignored what he imagined Tucker would say at this time. Just... concentrate on not digging around in Church's head... don't...

He took a sharp breath in, his resolve faltering. He frowned a bit, and suddenly jerked back as he saw... her.

Allison.

Not... not her...

He hadn't meant to focus a little too much on Church, but now he shook with the remembrance of her, and he couldn't let her go again. Church stopped walking around in his mind as he felt a rising feeling of dread. "Wash... don't, please... just let me do my job."

Wash tried to force away the memories of the blonde-haired girl that he had always let slip through his fingers. He shook out his hands and looked down. "Right, sorry... it's just... hard. You know." He was aware of the strange look he received from Tucker. Church responded as he worked.

"It's really hard for me, too. It hurts to remember her." Wash nodded, but he couldn't keep the image of the blonde-haired girl that he didn't know but loved from floating to the top of his mind.

allisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonalllison

Church jolted in his mind. "Wash, stop. You can't do this. Just let her go. Let her go."

Wash bit his lip as his hands began to shake. "I can't..."

Church's voice rose. "Wash, stop! Please!"

One of Wash's hands rose, as if reaching out for something. "Allison...?"

Church shouted. "Wash, NO! Don't!"

But it was too late.

There he was, with Tex, on the Mother of Invention, her embracing him, but he couldn't remember why... And he stood with her at Blood Gulch, looking at her with a sad sort of gaze full of love...

Allison's beautiful face gazing up at him, glowing with joy and adoration. "I do." She whispered, and he leaned in to kiss her...

Allison as she left him for the army...

Allison falling down an endless pit of oblivion, one hand reaching up for him as if he had been keeping her from falling, but he had dropped her...

Wash screwed up his face, shaking until his eyes burst open and he was in the real world, on his knees with his hands fisted at his forehead.

Tucker was in front of him as he breathed heavily, undoubtedly asking what was wrong. Epsilon appeared beside him, a hand on his chest as he kneeled in the same position as Wash.

Epsilon's voice sounded thick. "Wash, please... don't - don't... I - I'm not s-strong enough to leave, so please just - just stop... I can't leave..."

Wash's voice became bitter. "You left last time."

Church sounded confused as he gasped for air. "What - what do... you mean?"

Wash's eyes filled with tears against his will. "You left me. And... and it... it hurt..."

He couldn't control himself as he fell to the ground and started to scream, the agony playing over in his mind.

As Epsilon shattered into a thousand pieces in his mind, and the other Freelancers around him in a memory he hadn't recalled until now... a pain as bright as a thousand suns, making his vision white and his hearing pierced with a high-pitched, agonizing sound...

He clawed at his head, begging it to stop, begging Epsilon to stop, begging Epsilon to let him go like he had...

And suddenly he felt different.

He was Epsilon, rampant and implanted in Wash's body for the first time, seeing Tex and wanting Allison... but Tex was dead. So was Allison. So he must be dead to be seeing her here...

allisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallison

He wanted to be dead. If he was dead, he wouldn't be hurting. He curled into a tiny ball in the back of Washington's mind, crying as he knew what he had to do.

He waited until he couldn't take it anymore, and then he exploded.

It was a pain like Wash had never known, and though it was only a memory that he had never had, he wished for it to be over and to stop. It was worse, terrible, but all he knew was pain, no matter who he was in his memories, all he had was pain.

He started to cry as the pain faded, and his breathing deepened. As he heard his own cries, a small layer beneath his were Epsilon's, yelling and crying in sync. Two minds joined, Wash thought bitterly. Epsilon. Why?

His shaking increased as he pressed his hands to his temples and willed everything to stop. It was Epsilon's fault. "WHY?" He screamed. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO ME? YOU KNEW THAT OUR MINDS WERE JOINED, EPSILON! YOU KNEW THAT TEX WAS STILL THERE, STILL ALIVE! BUT YOU DID IT ANYWAY! YOU RUINED ME, EPSILON! YOU RUINED ME!" His hoarse voice gave out as he fell backwards onto the ground again, his head falling limply to the side to see Tucker sitting beside him, trying to calm him and see if he was alright.

And then the pain lessened, and his mind felt lonely. Epsilon had withdrawn himself from his mind, and Wash drew in shaking, shuddering breaths. The pain of remembering was... it was almost over. He would let Allison go.

The lights above him dulled and he heard Epsilon's weak and worried voice quietly called out to Tucker. "Get somebody. Anybody! Get - get Carolina!" And Wash jolted back into a memory of Carolina, and the others, holding him because... he remembered now, because Epsilon had committed suicide in his head. He remembered that now.

Some of the pain of the memory returned to him, making him cry out. The tears streaming down his face were hot, falling and falling without restraint. Epsilon had done this. Epsilon had done this.

Allison. Allison. Allison. He couldn't let her go. Allison. Allison!

allisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallisonallison

She was dead. He had failed. And now he would hurt forever.

His cry gave way into screams again. Why?! Why did this have to happen to him?!

Church's voice broke through the noise. "I'm sorry, Wash, I'm sorry! I was rampant and vulnerable when I was first in your head, I'm s-sorry! I ruined you, and I'm sorry!" Wash gave another cry as he sat up and curled into a ball, sobbing and yelling.

"EPSILON!" Was the only thing he could scream besides her name.

Church took a deep breath to try and calm himself, trying to quell the pain that was raging inside of him like a fire. "Wash, I'm sorry for everything! I - I committed suicide in your head, and I hurt and destroyed you. I'm - I'm sorry for that, and now I'm here for you. Don't think about her, Wash. She never could be saved."

Wash's cries quieted slightly, but his raspy breaths ached inside of him as he struggled to get air. He uncurled himself from his ball and collapsed on all fours trying and failing to subdue the pain that was similar to Epsilon's, raging and burning inside of him in an agonizing fury.

He hardly noticed when the door burst open with Tucker, Caboose, and Carolina (he dismissed the fleeting thought of, 'Why is she here?' when another wave of misery washed over him). He could hear her words cut through the sea like Tex's had. "No, Wash! How could you do this to him?!" And a small clunk as she threw herself to her knees and held him as he curled in on himself again.

He heard a quiet voice start to talk... Church's. The first couple words were the only thing he caught out of it. "Near the end of Project Freelancer, I was split off from the Alpha and given to Wash. I was rampant. It..." Church's words faded into background noise.

Carolina's guiding hands finally relaxed him slightly as she brought him out of his tight ball and into a sitting position, and then wrapped her arms around him. Steady arms, like Tex's had been. He shuddered and cried in her arms as two more clunks and two more pairs of arms alerted him that Tucker and Caboose had come to their knees and wrapped their arms around him.

As he fell through the pain, he was reminded of the lost memory if his Freelancer family doing exactly the same thing. And how he had a new family now.


	7. Reminiscence - Part 2

Tucker didn't particularly like having Church in his head.

For starters, his imagination was a place that was usually private.

And so were his (now deleted) home videos.

So yeah, it kinda pissed him off when he was undressing the ladies in his head and Church internally flinched. If he didn't like it, he shouldn't look!

His daydreams were interrupted when Church spoke to him. "Tucker?"

Tucker snapped out of his steamy little scene (Church gagged) and responded. "Yeah bro?"

Church sighed. "Can you take me to Wash? I have something I wanna ask him."

Tucker frowned a bit - what could Wash talk to Church about that Tucker couldn't? The Freelancers were always being so secretive and buddy-buddy, and Church was included in that. That was another reason he didn't like having Church in his head - he knew about every time Church went to talk to them, but he himself was always left out of the loop. But he guessed that you shouldn't really deny somebody who's living inside your head the thing they want.

So he got up and walked to Wash's room.

Wash was polishing his gun when he entered the room. Wash's room here was originally meant for four people - it had four bunks in it, but all of the bunks were empty except for one on the bottom left side. Tucker shrugged a bit - it wasn't like Wash was getting special treatment in rooming, at least. All of the Blood Gulchers and Freelancers had gotten their own rooms. But he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed anyway.

Wash looked up from the gun he was polishing before setting it aside and standing up. "So what brings you to my little corner of hell?" He asked dryly. Tucker looked to Church for an answer.

Church sighed again. "I was wondering what you knew about, uh, AI rampancy." Tucker started at this, and so did Wash. Didn't Church say he was okay after the incident with Sharkface? It - it was just because... but Wash spoke the exact words Tucker had been thinking.

"I thought you said... it was just because you can't run all the enhancements at once." Tucker felt a bit worried. Church better not be going... rampant or whatever the word was in his head.

"Yeah, dude. I don't want you going bat-shit crazy while you're still in my head!" Beside him, Church dropped his hands and assumed an indignant stance.

"Look, I'm not going 'bat shit crazy'," He exclaimed, using air quotes, "I just wanted to make sure that nothing... uh, bad is happening. And even now that I remember everything about Project Freelancer, I never attended any of the classes before, uh..." Church trailed off, and Tucker frowned. Before what? Church rubbed his neck and Wash looked off to the side.

What weren't they telling him? Irritation rose in him as he took a breath to calm himself. Whatever it was, it didn't look like they were comfortable telling him. He probably shouldn't ask them now.

Church started to talk again. "Well, I was just wondering if you remembered anything from the classes. Like, the first couple of stages of rampancy..." He trailed off, once again. Tucker looked at Church, and then at Wash. Both of them seemed a little tense.

Wash talked, his voice sounding forcibly rigid. "Um, I don't remember much... I don't know how much I really payed attention in those classes, because I didn't have an AI at the time, and it was so long ago, and... it didn't really seem that important." Tucker had a strong feeling that this wasn't all of the truth.

Church visibly sagged. "Uh, okay... just, try and remember... if you get anything, just uh... let me know." He looked to Tucker. "Let's go." Tucker frowned and didn't move. So Church was just going to give up? And Wash was not even going to attempt to recall anything? That was lame.

With a blink, he suddenly realized. Hey, Church was Epsilon, and Epsilon was memories! He could just go in Wash's head and find the information - that would work well! Even Wash couldn't turn that down. He smiled. For once, he was being the smart one.

He started to explain his idea to the two of them. "Wait, you're Epsilon, right?" Church rolled his eyes, something that was almost visible through his helmet.

"No..." Church drawled sarcastically.

Tucker scoffed. Asshole. . "Epsilon is the AI for memory, right? So you can just go in Wash's head and unlock some stuff, just look around and get the info. No big deal." He looked at the two for any signs of agreement. All he saw was complete stillness, and there was absolute silence. Wash, who was turning away to go sit back down, was frozen mid-spin. It looked deeply uncomfortable.

Tucker winced a little. He looked to Church. He was frozen as well, a hand on the place where his mouth would be on his helmet. It stayed like that for a moment before Church spoke up. "Uh, no, that's not really a, uh, good, um, idea, I don't think we should..." But once again he trailed off.

Tucker frowned. Of course, the genius AI and the Freelancer must be in agreement that any idea from Tucker was a bad one. Typical. He tried to keep the anger out of his voice as best he could. "Why not?"

Everything was silent again before Church answered. "It's - it's just better left unsaid." Nope, just couldn't tell him to his face that they disrespected him because he was a Sim Trooper.

He withdrew a little, a bit more annoyed. "What aren't you telling me?"

Wash finally unfroze. "Like Church said, it's just better - better left unsaid. So, I'll see what I can remember on my own, okay?" The small bite to Wash's words instantly ignited him. Wash was going to be angry, wasn't he?

This time, he added a hint of venom to his words. "Seriously, tell me. Why won't you let your friend into your head for some information that could really help him out? It's just a little digging around!" He couldn't believe how unreasonable the two were being.

Wash answered his question, really sounding pissed now. "Because, I really don't want to! Epsilon understands that, right?!" Church started a little, but nodded. Tucker fumed. Wash was going to start calling Church Epsilon now, huh?

"Yeah, it's okay. No big thing." Church agreed. Tucker disregarded Church's words, and the controlled but rising sense of panic that he was getting from him right now. It didn't matter - Church just didn't want to go against Wash, that jerk.

Why couldn't Wash just listen?! His idea was perfectly sound! There were no problems in it, no naked ladies! Wash probably just thought that any idea that came from him would go wrong, because Tucker was just so stupid. His words sounded sarcastic and venomous, even in his own head. He voiced his anger fully now.

"Just tell me why the fuck you can't do this one small thing? Why can't you just trust me with this?!" Wash took a step forward, and Tucker frowned bitterly.

"Because, this is something that does not concern you in any way! Just accept that and move on!"

"No, just give me one fucking simple answer. Why won't you let Church into your head?!" Tucker was about to explode.

Wash flung his hands up in the air. "Epsilon and I are probably in a mutual agreement that this is a bad idea. Right, Epsilon?!" Church nodded again, seeming very irritated himself.

"Yeah, Tucker... just stay out of this. It's... it's a bad idea, to say the least." Tucker fumed again, willing himself not to shoot every living thing around him, which amounted to Wash.

He barely achieved that. But instead, he exploded.

"WHY?! It's a perfectly good idea! It's just that you -" he jabbed his finger in Wash's chest - "Are too proud to use it! Any idea that comes from a stupid simulation trooper isn't good enough for Mr. High and Mighty Freelancer!" Wash balled his fists.

"NO! You don't understand! This is something that doesn't concern you! You aren't any part of this! Now just back off!" Tucker stared at him before stepping back. If he wasn't angry before, he really was now.

"Oh, I see. Instead of just telling me the truth, that you don't want to use any idea that comes from me, you're just going to reject it for no reason! You must be weak to not even be able to say it to my face. Weak and arrogant." Tucker yelled. Wash swelled with anger, and the room was filled with suspense as he prepared to shout.

Church spoke before Wash did. "Tucker, back off. This is bigger than you. It really isn't that - this is something that just can't be talked about. It's not because you're a simulation trooper or anything -" But Wash cut Church off.

"WEAK, huh?! Arrogant? Oh, you know what, Epsilon? Tucker just won't take my word for it, won't just let us live in peace! No, I'll do what Tucker asks now. Get in my head, Epsilon!" Tucker calmed a little, seeing how Wash's hands were clenched so hard. When Church answered, his voice was shaky and uncertain.

"Wash, no! You know what happened!" But Wash didn't listen. His voice was bitter, full of seething anger that Tucker had barely ever seen before.

"JUST DO IT!" Tucker blinked.

Church sounded more uncertain this time, and if Tucker could feel anything from the AI that seemed to put as much distance between him and Tucker as possible, it was fear. "O-okay. Just let me work, alright? Don't - don't go digging around in my mind." Wash shook his head slightly. Tucker made a small frown. Why was he warning Wash? Whenever he went in anybody else's mind, he never was this cautious. He never told them to be careful.

"Just go." Wash said, his voice cracking the slightest bit. Church took in a deep breath, and let it out. Tucker felt a bit awkward, as if he were intruding on a private moment.

"Alright." And suddenly, Church was gone from Tucker's mind and Wash sat down very quickly.

Tucker watched, crossing his arms and preparing to be smug and obnoxious. He knew this was going to work, Wash was just being stubborn. Soon enough, Church would have his information and be on his way.

He heard a small sigh from Wash's direction. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on something, but what it was he didn't know.

He was about to open his mouth and say something when he heard a sharp, ragged gasp come from Wash. His crossed arms fell to his sides. What...

Church's voice sounded quiet and worried as he spoke. "Wash... don't, please... just let me do my job." Tucker cocked his head a little at the desperate undertone in Church's voice.

"Right, sorry... it's just... hard. You know." Hard? What did he mean, hard? He was a Freelancer, he had more experience with AIs more than any of the other Blood Gulchers put together. He shouldn't have trouble with this. As Wash shook out his hands and shook his head, Tucker gave him a strange and curious look.

What caused him more confusion was what Church said back. "It's really hard for me, too. It hurts to remember her." What the fuck was this about? Her? What...? But Wash nodded, which meant that he understood whatever cryptic conversation they were having perfectly. Seriously, what?

Wash, who had been staring at the floor, suddenly jolted and looked up, a sharp breath being sucked in as he whispered some name, very quietly. Tucker could hear the ghosts of words being formed on Wash's lips, but he couldn't hear what it was. Slowly, he inched a little closer.

Church's voice echoed out, louder now. He sounded panicked. "Wash, stop. You can't do this. Just let her go. Let her go." This time, the undertone of desperation was more obvious.

"I can't..." Wash's voice, far from normal, sounded scared and weak.

Church's voice rose, sounding as if he were begging. "Wash, stop! Please!"

Tucker realized that Wash must be far gone now, because he stood up without seeming to care or even realize that he was doing so. Slowly, he rose one shaking hand as if he were reaching out for something. Tucker realized that at this moment, he was really, truly scared.

The ghost of a word this time fell out of Wash's lips, quietly but there this time. "Allison...?"

Wash's breathing elevated and started to get more panicked. Tucker could Church's breathing under there, too. Quietly, he stepped around Wash's raised arm and whispered, "Wash?"

There was a moment, and then: "NOOOO!" Wash fell to his knees in slow agony, hands fisted on his forehead as he flailed around, looking as if he was trying to rid himself of a bad memory. Maybe he was.

Tucker put his hand on his forehead. "Oh god..." He muttered as he came to Wash and kneeled in front of him, trying to get the screaming man's attention. He stopped as Wash began to vibrate, his screams giving way into moans as he vibrated. They mounted until he gave one final shout, and then his balled hands slid from his forehead to his sides as he gave deep, heavy breaths.

Church appeared beside Wash, in the same position on his knees but with a hand on his chest as he panted. "Wash, please... don't - don't... I - I'm not s-strong enough to leave, so please just - just stop... I can't leave..."

Wash's voice echoed with the same bitterness and anger as before. "You left last time." Slowly, he got to his feet, but in the same way as he did before he went under. As if in a trance, he didn't even realize he was standing.

Church sounded confused as he gasped for air. "What - what do... you mean?"

His voice waned into a weak sounding moan again. "You left me. And... and it... it hurt..."

And with mounting horror, Tucker watched as Wash went limp fell to the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs. Instantly, Tucker dropped to his knees beside Wash's head and tried to get him to stop, but he didn't.

His screams became ear shattering, and Tucker started to cry a little. What had he done? Oh god, what had he done?

He couldn't take no for an answer when both Church and Wash said they didn't want to carry out his plan. And even though Church and Wash both seemed scared and uncomfortable with the idea, he had pushed Wash over the edge and he had caused this. They had made cryptic conversation, and Tucker should have realized that this was beyond him. But no. He had done this, he was the one who was causing all this pain.

He looked up when he heard heavy, fast footsteps. The door opened a creak, and there stood... Goddammit, there stood Palomo. Palomo's voice was shaky and scared. Oh god...

"T-Tucker? W-What's going on?" Tucker shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

"LEAVE!" He shouted over Wash's screams. "GET AWAY!" His voice sounded strained, and anybody could tell that he was crying. Palomo glanced at Wash before closing the door and sprinting away.

And then Wash's shouts sounded different. They sounded as if there was a pattern to them... Tucker listened closely. It sounded as if he were screaming, "ALLISON!" But he couldn't tell for sure.

Tucker tried to get close to Wash, but he was kicking and screaming. But then, Wash curled into a tiny ball, his clunky armor fitting together to get him into a tiny ball of metal. His screams sounded much like sobs now.

Tucker was about to approach Wash again when a terrible scream broke out from him. "WHY? WHY DID YOU DO THAT TO ME? YOU KNEW THAT OUR MINDS WERE JOINED, EPSILON! YOU KNEW THAT TEX WAS STILL THERE, STILL ALIVE! BUT YOU DID IT ANYWAY! YOU RUINED ME, EPSILON! YOU RUINED ME!" Wash slowly but surely uncurled from his ball before falling backwards, his head limply lolling to the side. He seemed completely unconscious, unaware of everything around him as he gasped for breath.

Suddenly, Church appeared beside Tucker and he felt Church re-enter his mind. Wash's breathing quieted slightly, but Tucker's mind almost exploded for a second before Church withdrew most of his pain from Tucker, but he was still left with a dull headache. Tucker rubbed his head, and then knelt beside Wash before breathlessly asking Church, "What - what happened?" His voice sounded very thick.

Church didn't answer. His voice sounded weak and incredibly worried as he called out to him. "Get somebody. Anybody! Get - get Carolina!" Tucker got up and ran from the door, but Church's holo stayed above Wash, next to where Tucker had been kneeling. As he ran, he heard Wash cry out and slowly start to scream again. Church's voice could be quietly heard talking over Wash's screams.

As Tucker ran, he saw a lot of people near Wash's room standing and talking quietly. As he ran past them, one stepped out and came to talk to him. It was Kimball. Her voice sounded strained and worried.

"Tucker, is Wash alrig-" But she was interrupted by Tucker as he shoved her out of the way and kept sprinting.

"NO!" He screamed over his shoulder.

As he ran on, he saw Grif and Simmons standing next to each other. They approached him, blocking off his path. "What's up with Wash? We heard him-" But Tucker yelled over them.

"Is Carolina back yet?!" Simmons seemed confused by the question.

"Um, yeah, I think they just got back, like, now, but -" Tucker shoved past them and started to sprint again, not giving them a second glanced as they shouted, 'Hey!' at him.

There was a circle of people surrounding the Pelican as Carolina and a few other soldiers got off of the ship. She was just talking to somebody when Tucker shoved through the people and yelled, "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Carolina turned to him, a confused look on her face.

"Tucker..." She sounded frustrated. As Tucker put his hands on his knees and caught his breath, he started to explain.

"Church... wanted to... know more about AI... rampancy... so he asked... Wash and... Wash didn't remember and... I said that Church should just... get inside Wash's head and look for the... information... and Church went in and... Wash started to... freak out and scream and..." But he was cut off by Carolina.

"You put Church in Wash's head?!" Carolina growled. Tucker nodded. She shoved past him and screamed, "You fucking RETARD!" As she sprinted away. Tucker went to follow her, and he heard her scream, "WASH!" As she ran.

On the way back, Caboose stepped in front of Tucker. "Tucker," he began. "What is happening to Agent Washingtub? He sounds very sad." Tucker just grabbed his arm and yelled.

"Come with me!"

When they finally reached Wash's room, Carolina flung open the door. Wash was on all fours, shaking his head and sobbing. Carolina took one look at him and yelled, "Wash? Tucker, how could you do this to him?!" She ran to him and dropped to her knees. He started to curl into a tight little ball again, and she put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder as he cried.

Tucker and Caboose stayed back for a moment, watching as Carolina held Wash and stayed silent. Quietly, Church appeared in front of the two and began to talk.

"Near the end of Project Freelancer, I was split off from the Alpha and given to Wash. I was rampant. It didn't go well. I went insane in his mind, giving him the memories of the pain of being tortured by the Director, the pain of losing Allison and Tex, and it was terrible. He started to go crazy too. It was just horrible... I can barely remember it, but what happened was eventually it all got... too much for me." Church's voice sounded weak and hoarse. "I committed suicide in Wash's head." Tucker was shocked. W... what?

"The pain was unimaginable. Wash's own mind was very nearly destroyed. It took him a long time to get over it, and when he finally did, he was changed. Before, he was the innocent, kind young rookie. And after... well, you know. After he was like who he was when he teamed with the Meta. It was really traumatic, for both of us. And just now, we shared a mental connection. I could go in his head, and he could go in mine. So he unlocked the memories of that day, by accident, he was drawn to them. And right now, he's just re-lived his worst, most painful memory." Tucker and Caboose were completely silent.

Oh god. Wash...

How could he have done this? Of course neither Church or Wash would ever want to talk about this without needing to. But he had yelled, he had been stupid, and he had just been the reason that Wash had to go through his darkest day all over again. He had just caused so much pain...

He walked to Wash and fell to his knees. So did Caboose. By now, Wash had mostly uncurled himself from the ball again and was sitting up, being held up by Carolina's hug. Tucker wrapped his arms around Wash, and so did Caboose too. Wash shuddered and cried in his arms.

He let out a sigh. From now on, Wash was his family, and he would do everything to help protect him from this pain.


	8. Of Past and Present

Wash sat on his bed, only his under-armour on. A small smile was on his face.

Epsilon had caused him so much pain/agony/torture/torment/suffering, but now he could remember.

He remembered the way that North flicked through his comic book, how Carolina would loosen up every now and then, how York was painfully in love with her but always too chicken to say it, how Connie always walked with her hips swaying slightly.

He recalled/recollected/reminisced and every type of remembered everything about his old family.

York was laughing, his face red and his arm casually flung around Carolina's shoulders. North and South were choking on their guffaws, South pointing at his hair and cackling maniacally. Maine was giggling loudly. Wyoming was banging the counter. Tex was shaking her head, her chuckles quiet. CT was smirking, stifling her laughs behind her hand.

She had made him dye his hair bubblegum pink.

Being majorly drunk, he hadn't cared much.

When he woke up the next morning, he went into his bathroom, saw what he had done, and screamed for five minutes straight. York was very, very amused and very, very hungover.

Wash smiled/grinned at the memory. He had been so, so drunk that he hadn't ever remembered any of the events on the night he dyed his hair pink/magenta/lightish red/bright hot flaming fucking pink, but now he did. He savored every minute of it - that night was one of the best of his life, the night he and his Freelancer family had bonded more than any had thought possible. He savored/reveled/loved/delighted in remembering that night, that fun/enjoyable/hardly memorable but that was beside the point/entertaining night.

He knew that Epsilon had almost re-routed the way he thought/contemplated/considered/brooded/remembered, remembered, remembered things. It was kind of scary/terrifying/different at first, but he had gotten used to it gradually/eventually/fucking finally. It helped him remember/recall more - memories and words and feelings.

A small flash of pain flew through his mind - he remembered the pain/agony/torture of Epsilon/Church exploding in his mind, remembered living/dying through it again, the pain that came with it, so that he could recall and feel it again/once more/anew, but he would never/not ever/at no time/not once want to feel again, so he did his best not to remember.

Instead, he remembered the feel/perfection of Connie's/CT's lips on his, how his heart always exploded with

love/affection/fondness/tenderness/attraction/warmth/intimacy/devotion/adoration/yearning/passion/desire/fireworks/infatuation/an infinity of things he loved about her, loved about the way she smiled and laughed and walked and fought and talked and lived, the way she didn't anymore but the way she did in his memory/happiness.

It was a marginally better feeling/explosion.

He could recall anything/everything and everything/anything, something Epsilon/Church had accidentally unlocked for him. It was something he both loved/hated at and despised/hated/loathed/abhorred/detested/loved with all of his heart.

So, he brought up the feeling of happiness/glee/ecstasy, felt it emotionally first and then was taken under once more in memory.

He had just woken up from his dream, maybe an hour ago, and the others refused to leave his side. They told him how they had found him dead, dead without any life left and his last words as desperate screams of sadness. His glee had worn off slightly - though he had seen his friends again, his Freelancers, he was still without them.

But he had his friends here now, too - Tucker and Caboose and Church and Carolina and Grif and Simmons and Sarge and Donut and everyone, everyone here. They were his friends, and as goddamn stupid as they were, they were there for him.

Caboose absolutely refused to get off of his arm, and continued to cling to him even though an hour had passed since he came back.

Everyone else had been unusually sappy that night, for reasons Wash guessed were justified, after all. They had all told him to never do that again, and that they all cared about him a lot and that sort of sappy crap. Wash's blush was still apparent, though.

He was kind of nervous about being armor-less in front of everyone else, but nobody seemed to pay any mind to it. He was glad that his friends were being considerate, being nice and caring and surprisingly not as stupid. He let Caboose grip his arm harder, and smiled just a little. They were his family, no matter how dumb.

The feeling of happiness/contentment settled in Wash's chest, and he smiled/grinned/beamed. It made him feel good, to know that he was at peace with his old and his new friends/family.

Even though the Freelancers/family were dead/gone/missed/loved/remembered, he would always yearn for/want/need/hope/miss/love/remember, remember, remember them. He would enjoy/love life for them, in a way they couldn't/wouldn't anymore, love his old/new friends/family.

So, he got up, put on his helmet/habits and walked/strolled/roamed/wandered/moved purposefully until he found all of them. They were sitting together, talking/laughing/loving/being and he sat down and joined them.

They had not seen/heard from him all day, so they were surprised/shocked/happy to see him join them. They talked for a while/long time, and he did not listen, just basked in their joy/laughter/words/liveliness/happiness.

He took off his helmet. All of them, especially Tucker and Carolina, looked surprised/shocked/confused. He smiled/grinned. He was with his friends/family, united in his past/present/memories, and he/David/Washington couldn't be more alive.


End file.
